Blocks everywhere.
In this life, I must build something mine, only mine, only for me.
What would it be if I could choose it?
If everything could be possibile for this hands I own, to made whatever I want.
Letting a sign in this world.
I choose the most colorful pieces, legos aren't my favorite game but I'll try to build what I know to need.
And that's the only thing that comes inside my mind right now.
Maslow's pyramid, that's what is called.
I can't dream much bigger then what I'm allowed, and I need so many things right now.
Maslow said once you have food you I'll desire safety, once you'll have safety you I'll desire company, feeling loved, feeling wanted.
At the end of that immaginary pyramid he invented there is what I had to recreate with that small blocks.
And I couldn't immagine more that what I needed.
A home where the world goes more slowly, where it can be felt more slowly.
Without having to worry about danger.
A place only for me, but if you want you can stay as much as you want.
But if you feel it too small, feel free to leave me all by my own.
Once again.
I'll watch the seassion change, from my window, inside my warm home.
I'll be everything I need, that's what I want to be.
So show and tell me what's your dream future looks alike.
Adults want to help but they don't understand a thing.
And the only thing you want to see of me is what I can't reach.
I feel small in front of you.
As my presence feels too sticky for you.
So I avoid you, once again, with all of my strength.
Desiring a quite place to finally rest my head.
I don't get any sweet dream.
My brain too busy trying to know if I'm in danger.
So I've put walls on that small house without a ceiling, I can see clearly the bed and a desk full of things on it.
"For do a home you first need the base,then go ahead" I got taught how to build a home when I was a child, unable to follow any rule.
People around me have such huge dreams.
And I only crave something to be mine.
Safety and a place to be in.
They talk about becoming owner of companies, becoming lawyers and teachers, becoming rich.
I talk about my truth dream, they definitely think I'm so stupid.
I talk a lot, I want my own place, that's all.
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Called home
Poesíawhat do you call home? a place, a person or a memory? maybe a song, a picture still inside your room... maybe them all, maybe nothing can let yourself feel calm enough to call it home. A lot of different scenarios with different experiences, what w...